


Bad Meets Evil

by HeroismInACan



Category: South Park
Genre: Aged up characters, Cartman actually had a feeling, Explicit Language, Kenny dies but comes back, Kenny turned evil, M/M, Superheroes, Temper Tantrums, mild violence, they're sixteen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-12 08:40:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19943305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeroismInACan/pseuds/HeroismInACan
Summary: "It had been three days. Three days since he died.Their plan had failed, ended with a fiery explosion that sent his companion to an early visit to Hell, but normally he’d already be back." - Mysterion/The Coon. This was a gift for a friend, who gave me the prompt. Complete.





	Bad Meets Evil

He’d poured over the plans tirelessly, night and day spent working until the frustration became too much. Papers flew from the table, half-empty cans of energy drinks emptied their contents onto the basement floor, and a loud snarl of pent-up rage finished the tantrum off.

“Mother _fucker_!”

It had been three days. _Three days_ since _he_ died.

Their plan had failed, ended with a fiery explosion that sent his companion to an early visit to Hell, but normally he’d already be back. No longer than one day was all it would take for Kenny to revive, to waltz back into Cartman’s basement like he owned the place, and resume the planning process for their next scheme.

“Why the fuck aren’t you back yet, you fuckface?” The Coon muttered, staring with intense rage at the cleared table. All the hard work he’d— _they_ —spent time organizing, now lay scattered around him in disorder. Having the tantrum didn’t make him feel better, not afterwards anyway. The _act_ of doing it, of losing control and letting his emotions take over, was what made it therapeutic on some level.

With a heavy sigh, the Coon stooped over, collecting the scattered remains of their plan and shoving them somewhat in order. “Guess I have to do this shit by myself then. Great. Thanks, _Kinny_.” The brunet huffed, sliding one of the metal chairs out from under the table and plopping down. “Our last plan failed, obviously. Wasn’t _my_ fault. The startup was _great_ , but something got fucked. God damn police butting in.”

He slapped the papers down, spreading them out and staring down at the various drawings, diagrams, and scribbled notes, most of which were in his own writing. He did catch sight of a few of Mysterion’s doodles and some of his handwriting in the margins, but the Coon was the writer of the villainous duo. He was also the beginning man. He knew where the plans would begin, could conjure up schemes like no one’s business, but it was completing those schemes, rounding the plan out and finding a clean finish, where he struggled. And _that_ was where Mysterion came into play. He could finish those plans. He could find an ending, complete the story and polish it off.

So why did their last plan fail so horribly?

“The universe hates you.” He barked a humorless laugh, the sound coming off more as a snort than anything else. “I think it goes out of its way to fuck with you. Perhaps you’re more trouble than your worth, Mysterion.” But he knew he was lying to himself. They were once enemies, but time passed and taste changed. He found the purple-clad vigilante on his doorstep one evening, telling Cartman how he had a plan that only _he_ could help with.

To this day the brunet was baffled by the change of heart, how a good guy could cross over just like that, but how could he have denied Mysterion? He had a genuine power, something that the Coon had planned to use to his benefit, but over time, _his_ taste changed too. He started to _like_ Mysterion, past differences aside, and began to _enjoy_ his company to the point he genuinely missed the blond when he was dead. He did consider Kenny his best friend, even if the sentiment wasn’t always reciprocated, but never in his sixteen years of living did he think that he would gain honest feelings for another human being.

The Coon felt another bubble of rage rumble below his flesh, clenching his hands into tight fists as he brought them slamming down on the table. “You shouldn’t have died! That plan should’ve _worked_ , damnit!”

“Eric, honey, are you okay?”

Another fizz of anger, but this one he swallowed down. Only the bite to his words gave way to his current emotions. “Yes, _mom_.”

“Your little friend is here to visit, by the way. Should I send him down?"

Cartman’s shoulders instantly lost all tension, spine shooting upward and head whipping around to stare wide like saucers at the steps.

“Well hi, Eric!”

“Fuckin’ _Butters_.” The Coon hefted another heavy sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

The short frame of Butters loped into view, coming down the stairs at a snail’s pace with a beaming smile on his dumb face. When he got to the bottom, he hesitated when he noticed that it wasn’t _Eric_ he was looking at but rather _The Coon_.

“Oh!” He rubbed his knuckles together, a nervous habit the boy had since forever. “I didn’t know you were playin’ superheroes. I woulda come prepared.”

The Coon wasn’t in the mood for this. “What the fuck do you want, Butters?”

“I just came by to see if ya wanted to play, is all.”

“We’re sixteen. You don’t just come over and ‘ _play._ ’ That’s kiddie shit.”

“Says the boy who still plays in his superhero costume from six years ago?”

Sometimes the blond could fire off some pretty good insults, spit some genuine fire, but the brunet was having none of it. “I’m busy. I can’t ‘play’ with you right now.”

“Busy doin’ what?” He was absolutely unfazed by Cartman’s radiating hostility. Sometimes the kid was just a miracle. Or perhaps he was just dumb.

“Planning.”

“Need some help? You know I’m a master of—” A pause for, what The Coon assumed, dramatic effect, “—chaos.”

“No, Butters, I don’t need _your_ help. I need fuckin’ Kenny’s, but that assbucket is taking forever and a half to get back here.”

“Back here? Well, where’d he go?” The blond tilted his head, bright eyes darting around the room and noticing the spilled drinks and the few scattered papers that weren’t collected. He made like he was going to comment on it, but Cartman butt in to shut him up.

“Dunno. Said he’d be here and he isn’t.” A lie, but it wasn’t like he could tell Butters that their dear friend Kenny was in Hell doing god knows what. Well, Cartman always assumed that Kenny went to hell. Why would he go to Heaven after all the crap they got into together?

“Well, shucks, Eric, I’m real sorry ya got stood up like that. Maybe Kenny just got caught up doin’ something? He might be workin.’ He’s got, like, two jobs, doesn’t he?” Butters was shuffling closer, resting his hands on the back of a chair just to the right of Cartman.

“Something like that, yeah.”

“You sure you don’t want me to help ya out? At least until Kenny gets here. It ain’t no fun doin’ plannin’ alone.”

“I’d _rather_ be alone.” The Coon bit, voice gruff as he turned his attention back to his paperwork.

Butters hesitated, leaning over to give the Coon a pat on the shoulder. “Well, alright, but give me a call if ya change your mind, okay?” When he got no response, the blond shambled back up the stairs and left the brunette to his own devices.

Cartman wasn’t sure how much time had passed, perhaps just a minute, maybe ten, but when he heard footsteps on the stairs again, he didn’t bother turning around.

Instead, he called to his unwanted guest without taking his eyes off his new scheming plot. “I told you I didn’t want your help, Butters.”

Silence.

The brunet grumbled something under his breath, turning in his seat to yell profanities at the blond, but he was stunned speechless by the hooded figure perched on the last step.

Once he gathered his wits, he stood with enough force to knock his chair over. “You. Mother. _Fucker.”_ The amount of speed that The Coon moved was record time. He was in the face of his guest in under a second, stabbing a chubby finger into the taller boy’s lavender spandex covered chest right between the two humps of the green ‘M’ painted in the center. “You kept me waiting for three god damn days!”

The smile that turned only half of the boy’s lips upward set the Coon off into another tantrum, only this time the receiving end wasn’t a stack of loose-leaf papers and forgotten energy drinks—it was his best friend turned co-villain turned love-interest. The one boy in all of South Park who he genuinely cared about. The one boy who could make him crumble. “Is that all you gotta say? A fuckin’ _smirk_?”

Mysterion’s shoulders jumped in a nonchalant motion, arms moving to cross over his chest as his back straightened. The vigilante’s husky growl met The Coon’s ears. “I don’t control how long it lasts.”

“Well why the fuck not?”

“Did you get anywhere on the new plan?”

“Don’t try to change the subject.”

Mysterion gave him a long stare, mouth drawn in a tight line, before he moved to the table. “You made a mess.”

The Coon was fuming again, that anger flaring up and tempting him to lash out. One punch is all it would take. One punch to get these pent-up feelings out and go back to normal.

He stepped closer to the purple-clad teenager, keeping his brown eyes trained on him as he moved. When the other boy turned to look at him, the Coon sent a fist flying, successfully catching the great and wonderful Mysterion by surprise and sending him falling backwards against the table.

“What the fuck, dude!” Kenny’s voice peeked out from below the hood and mask, irritation and anger swirling behind those blue eyes as he nursed his swelling cheek.

“Three fucking days, _Kinny_. Three god damn days! And you just walk in here like nothing fucking happened?”

“You aren’t the one who died, you fat fuck! I die all the god damn time. You think I control when I come back? You think I have any say in _anything_ that happens to me?” The blond pushed himself off the table, getting into the Coon’s face. “You can fuck off, Cartman.”

“ _You_ can fuck off! Jesus Christ.” The brunet huffed, crossing his arms and staring hard at the stack of papers he had been going through before he was interrupted twice.

A tense silence blanketed the space between them. Neither saying a word or moving an inch. Cartman could feel Kenny’s stare on him, boring into the side of his head, but he refused to look. He had every right to be angry, to be upset. He knew where Kenny was coming from, he couldn’t begin to understand what dying and being reborn would feel like, but he didn’t care. He just wanted the bastard back in a timely fashion. Not just for the sake of their evil scheming, but because he missed him. He missed Kenny and he hated when he was gone. The world felt so much colder without the blond by his side to help him work out their next plan of taking down the government or ruining a local event.

“I missed you.” Cartman mumbled, eyes falling further to the ground as he prayed Kenny didn’t hear his confession, but he wasn’t so lucky.

“You what now?”

“I missed you,” the brunet repeated, confidence gaining as his gaze flew up, locking onto Kenny’s stare.

“Then why the fuck did you punch me, asshole?”

“Because your stupid face deserves it, that’s why.”

“I’m not Butters.”

That elicited an honest laugh from Cartman, starting out as a quiet rumble then quickly gaining into a thunderous roar.

Kenny joined in, the tense moment all but forgotten as they laughed even though the joke, honestly, wasn’t _that_ funny. It was the tension, the underlying feelings and worry that the two boys couldn’t openly share, that caused the emotional outburst. Consider it a cleanse to wipe the slate clean until it covered itself with more muck.

Once they quieted, Mysterion tried again, voice falling into that grating rumble. “So, did you get anything done?”

“No.” The Coon sat down where he had been before, passing a sheet of paper to his right.

Mysterion took it, reading the first few lines scribbled across the top regarding crashing a local campaign rally for some political event. “Right where we left off, eh? Okay.” He sat down, setting the loose sheet between them as he leaned back in the chair, casually rubbing at his sore cheek. “Well, do we know why our last plan failed?”

“A miscalculation on our part. We didn’t think the police would actually be competent in this stupid town. Dunno why or how it happened, though. That explosion was _not_ expected.”

“We underestimate them often, and I think they shot at a gas tank or something, but I don’t remember.”

The Coon huffed. “Don’t remember seeing a fucking gas tank, but _something_ exploded.”

Mysterion hummed, leaning closer to the other boy until he was resting his chin on his shoulder. “We should take a break from this.”

“What?” The brunet jerked back, popping Mysterion’s chin in the process.

“ _Ow,_ fucker.” The blond rubbed at the new sore spot, casting a halfhearted glare at the bigger of the two boys. “I said we should take a break.”

“I heard you the first time, dillweed, but _why_?”

“Sitting here planning our asses off isn’t going to help us get anywhere. Besides, I’m tired and I’m sure you are too.” The purple-clad teenager stood, pushing the papers into a neat stack and setting them in the middle of the table. “Let’s go play some video games or something and chill. We have a week until the campaign rally, so let’s not rush this, okay?”

Shoulders slumping, The Coon nodded slowly and stood, meeting Mysterion’s vivid stare, which softened once contact was made.

A gentle smile crept onto the blond’s face. “By the way, I missed you too, Cartman.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is another one of those deleted stories I'm bringing back. It was written for a friend who gave me the prompt. I also enjoy the idea of Kenny turning to the dark side, and I'm sure he and Cartman would make one amazing team if they did actually get together for scheming like this. 
> 
> Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed it!


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